A Bright Black Light
by MysticalOddness23
Summary: Hi. I'm Lucy, Lucy Lily Black. I'm thirteen, "deeply disturbed" and obsessed with chocolate. This is my story.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and welcome to the prologue of A Bright Black Light. I'm Queen Pix, and this is my "first" story. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>AN. A Bright Black Light (BBL) is part of a trilogy. It's the middle fic of the series, _White Lilies, Black Lights and Pretty Pearls, _which chronicles the lives of three generations of women, starting with Susan Heyforde and ending with her granddaughter Megan. A Bright Black Light will be split into three sections, which will be called _Mini M_, _Before the Storm _and _So We Were Led To Believe_. I hope you enjoy the beginning of the first section, Mini M.**

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE: What She Simply Never Knew<strong>

**12:34 p.m, 1st November, 1981.  
>London, England. <strong>

Susan Black ran as quickly as she could down the small London alleyway, causing her daughter, Lucy, who was clutching her mother's hand, to stumble a bit. Luckily (well, at that point of time, it was), Susan was thirty-four weeks pregnant with triplets, so her movements were more of a fast hobble than her usual running and little two-year old (almost three, as she took pleasure in reminding everyone) Lucy didn't fall over as much as she could have.

_Oh dear God, let me get there in time,_ prayed Susan, speeding up a little more with the thought. She needed to get there soon or … well, she didn't exactly know what would happen, but she knew it would _not_, under any circumstances, be good. At all.

Little Lucy, however, couldn't understand what the rush was. All she knew was that, very, very early that morning, when it was still dark and she was supposed to be in bed (but she had secretly been staying up, hiding in the kitchen cupboard so her Mummy wouldn't find her and send her to her room), her Daddy had come home crying. He'd gone up the stairs and she'd followed him quietly and watched as he packed a bag and ran down the stairs. That was when he noticed her following him.

'_Lucy,' Sirius whispered, looking with wide eyes at the little toddler in her pink unicorn pyjamas, clutching the grey elephant her Grandma had gotten her for her birthday. 'What in the blazers are you doing up, sweetheart?'_

'_I wanna see you, Daddy,' said Lucy sleepily. 'But Mummy towd me it was bwedtime.'_

_Sirius stood staring at her for a second, as if he didn't know who she was. It made the little girl feel a tiny bit frightened. The look in his eyes was that of a lost man, one who had lost one of the most important things that matter to him. Lucy had never seen him look like that. Then he dropped the bag, strode forwards and enveloped her in a tight hug that lifted her off her feet. He held her close, as if she were all that was anchoring him to the world that he was desperate to stay in._

'_I love you, Lucy, so much,' he murmured into her long dark hair. 'I'm sorry, Mini.'_

_Lucy frowned in confusion at her Daddy. 'Why are you sowwy, Daddy?'_

_He gave her a long, hard look – like he was memorising her face, perhaps? – and told her, eyes now averted from hers, 'Daddy has to do something bad, Mini M, and he won't be able to see you for a while. But he loves you, Mini.'_

_Lucy yawned. 'Daddy's gonna get in twouble,' she giggled. 'Are you scared about getting in twouble, Daddy?'_

'_No, darling,' answered Sirius, shaking his head and kissing her on the forehead. 'Daddy's not scared, but … you know how sometimes you get sent to your room when you do something bad?'_

_Lucy nodded as enthusiastically as she could. 'I got sent stwaight to bwed two days ago without any dinner,' she told him. _

'_Right,' agreed Sirius. He started to walk into the living room (he'd almost woken Susan up when he'd gone up the stairs (which was where Lucy's bedroom was), and she would only stop him from avenging Lily and James), still clutching the little girl to his chest. When his jean-clad knees hit the edge of the scarlet two-seater, he lowered the little girl down. Her head bumped awkwardly on the fuzzy lounge. She didn't notice, but her father did, and he turned around searchingly, trying to find a pillow. He grinned half-heartedly as he snatched one from the floor about two paces away from the two-seater and stuffed it as gently as he could under Lucy's head. _

'_Well,' he said, kneeling at her head, 'when I do this bad thing, I have to move house, and I can't leave my room forever.'_

_Lucy looked at him with Galleon-sized eyes._

'_But,' she said slowly, as if thinking hard, 'why would you do somefing so siwwy, Daddy?'_

'_Because,' Sirius explained patiently, 'a very bad man needs to be stopped, Mini M, and Daddy has to hurt him very badly to do it. But that's being very naughty.'_

_Lucy yawned again and closed her eyes. Watching her, Sirius started to get up from his knees, but when he straightened up, Lucy's tiny childlike fist was grasping the waistband of his jeans. He smiled sadly as she opened her eyes again._

'_Why can't Unca Moony do it?' demanded the sleepy child drowsily. Sirius laughed darkly. _

'_Because,' he answered, bending down once more and kissing Lucy on the cheek, 'it's Daddy's fault the bad man did the things he did.'_

_Lucy yawned a last time and patted Sirius on his right cheek, the one closest to her. 'Then Daddy sh'n't get in twouble,' she told him. 'Tell them sowwy, Daddy. That helps.' Then she closed her bleary eyes, curling in on herself. Sirius gave her a last kiss, whispering in her ear, 'Love you, Mini M,' and finally straightened up. _

_His gaze swept over the room as he surveyed it a last time: the two-seater, the two plump red armchairs, a scarlet loveseat, wooden coffee table (littered with letters, inkpots, quills and pieces of parchment), fireplace (now reduced to only glowing embers) and shimmering gold walls that looked strangely dim in the lack of light. Their Gryffindor room, which matched Lucy's bedroom and theirs, and was going to match the rooms the triplets would occupy._

_The triplets, he mused, he would never meet._

_He walked back into the entrance hall and stooped to pick up the bag. Slinging the bag over his shoulders, he opened the door, wincing at the long and loud creak. His eyes flashed toward the stairs, making sure Susan wasn't coming down them, then he turned on his heel and ran out into the dark early morning._

_He didn't look back._

_He never did._

Lucy was more than confused as to why they were running on the hard bitumen. After all, her Mummy always scolded her when she ran on hard surfaces. In her mind, Lucy was very indignant that her Mummy wasn't doing the right thing. In fact, her Mummy hadn't been very nice towards anyone all morning. She'd been very mean towards Aunt Alice and Uncle Frank – she was even nasty to Uncle Moony! It boggled little Lucy's mind.

'_Susan, I'm very sorry, but look at the facts!' insisted Uncle Frank. Usually, her Mummy got along well with Uncle Frank and his young wife, Aunty Alice, but today Lucy had seen her be quite nasty towards them. She'd yelled for ages when they'd turned up with Lucy's Uncle Moony. 'Sirius is gone, the Potters are dead and _he was their Secret Keeper_!'_

'_I don't believe it,' said Susan (Lucy's Mummy) defiantly. 'He would _never_ betray James in a thousand years! He was like a brother to him!'_

'_Susan,' sighed Uncle Moony, running a hand through his hair like Lucy had seen her Uncle Prongs do almost all the time, 'he went to see Lily and James last night, yes? And did he return afterwards?'_

_Susan hesitated._

'_No,' she answered uncertainly. _

'_He didn't come back last night,' said Uncle Moony, 'because he knew we would come after him. He's done a runner, Susan.'_

'_No,' Susan said, shaking her head in rebellion to their words. 'He wouldn't. He probably did come home, just after I went to bed.'_

'_Then why isn't he here?' asked Uncle Henry, Susan's brother, who'd arrived only ten minutes after the Longbottoms and Remus. 'Susan, explain to us why he's gone if he's innocent.'_

_Susan bit the inside of her mouth so hard she tasted blood. She put a fluttering hand to the top of her swollen belly and breathed in slowly but heavily, as if she were only just keeping herself from crying. She opened her mouth and started, 'Well…'_

'_Oh, here we go,' snapped Brent Ficklewee, an Auror in Henry's team that Susan and her numerous siblings had grown up with. He looked over-harassed, and turned to Henry in annoyance. 'Our job, Henry, was to find and arrest Black, not have a bloody conversation with your bloody deluded sister.'_

_Susan sent a nasty glare in his direction. _

'_Mummy,' called Lucy from her spot on the floor, her grey elephant in clutched tightly in her hand. Susan, her brother, Remus, Frank and Alice looked to her, while Brent cursed and rolled his eyes, stamping outside the house bitterly._

'_Mummy,' repeated Lucy, 'do you know who the bad man is?'_

'_Bad man?' reiterated Susan, frowning at her in confusion. 'What do you mean, darling?'_

_Lucy got to her little feet and staggered to her Mummy, eyes wide and innocent. She raised her little arms, indicating that she wanted to be carried, and Susan obliged (rather clumsily, it must be mentioned). Once settled awkwardly on her mother's hip, she exclaimed, 'The bad man Daddy needed to hurt badly.'_

_Her Mummy gasped, and everyone else looked uneasy. Uncle Moony put his hands out to his little niece (even though they weren't related, everyone in the Marauder circle called each other by family terms, so he was Harry and Lucy's Uncle Moony) and she willingly went to him. Her Mummy was scaring her. She seemed very, very angry, just like whenever Lucy did something naughty or Lucy's Daddy was being too silly (which happened quite a lot, to be honest), or when her Mummy and Daddy were talking about that man, Mouldy-something._

'_Now, sweetheart, what are you talking about?' asked Uncle Moony. Lucy wanted to tell Uncle Moony – she really did! – but she was scared that her Mummy would be even angrier with her. Uncle Moony noticed her hesitance and nudged her gently. 'You won't get in trouble if you know something, Mini M. We need to find your Daddy before he hurts the bad man, so he doesn't get in trouble.'_

_Lucy plunged on without any further hesitance. 'Daddy came home when I was 'sposed to be in bwed,' she told them, a half-glance shot at her Mummy, who she expected to look disapproving. To Lucy's surprise, her Mummy didn't look angry at all – but frightened. 'I didn't want to be bad! I just wanted to see Daddy!' Lucy exclaimed, hoping her Mummy wouldn't look as sad._

'_It's ok, Lucy,' Aunty Alice encouraged. 'You were doing something naughty, but you wanted to see Daddy, so that's ok. But you can't do it again, ok?'_

'_Ok,' agreed Lucy, nodding. She started to suck on her thumb, a habit that had been provoked out of her in the war between Voldemort when all the adults around her had been scary and serious. Her wide grey eyes surveyed them with a childish intelligence. 'Daddy put me to bwed, and towd me that he woved me and he was sowwy, that he had to move homes and he wasn't awowed to leave his new woom ever. I towd him to say sowwy.'_

_Uncle Henry and Uncle Frank exchanged dark looks. Aunty Alice put a hand on her Mummy's shaking shoulder, but Susan wrenched it from Alice's grip, stalking forwards, snatching her daughter from Remus and marching out the door._

_She must be worried about Daddy_, reasoned the little girl.

'Come on Lucy,' said her Mummy. She sped up a little, tugging the little girl with her. 'We're almost there, Mini M. Look, there's Daddy.'

Lucy looked up and grinned. Finally, everything would be all right.

Oh, poor child. She never knew how wrong she was; never knew that after that day, she would hate her Daddy more than any other person in the world; never knew that her Mummy's heartbeats were limited; never knew that she would have to lose her childish ways at such a young age.

She simply never knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Merry Christmas! I've actually worked at it so that this chapter comes out at the same time that the clock strikes twelve, signifying Christmas day – in Australia, at least. Love this pressie, please, because, quite unfortunately, I'm not giving you a New Year's one, and next year I won't be able to do this. So it's a one-off thing.**

**I'll tell you now, do not expect an update from now till January 15****th**** at least. I'm going on a cruise to New Zealand and I get to do this kick-arse awesome tour of the Lord of the Rings sites they used for the movies. **

**Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,**

_**Queen Pix**_

Hi.

I'm Lucy, although I suppose you've already guessed that, what with the blurb and all. But I think I might as well introduce myself to you. After all, that's what any _civilised_ person would do.

[Charlie's laughing at me right now, calling me ridiculous and wondering aloud when I've ever been civilised. Handsome git.]

I suppose you're wondering why I wrote this. Truth be told, I don't really know. A psychiatrist would say that it's to get my mind off bad memories; another might say it's to preserve the good ones. All I know is that I'm writing it – for them.

I remember, in my sixth year at school, that my Dad and Uncle showed me a treasure chest of sorts. To many, the stuff in the chest was worthless, maybe only a little interesting, as it had a detailed account of someone in the first war. But to me, it was more than just a detailed account.

It was my mother's account.

So, I guess you could say I mooched the idea of her, even though I'm not using diary mode, whereas she did for most of it. Dad says she thought that, once the war was over and if they lived, she would write it into a book. That's the idea I mooched off. While I never have kept a diary, I used a different method to record my thoughts – the Black family Pensieve. It's all there, and one day, I'll show it to my kids.

Most of you won't understand much of the setting and people, so I'll try to explain it to you when I can. I might even annoy you by placing mysterious hints in front of your nose. And so comes to the end of my explanation. I have on last thing to say before I start.

I'm Lucy. I love chocolate. I adore drinking pomegranate juice. I paint figurines and pictures for fun. I have two sisters and a brother. I am considered insane. I would do anything for my family.

I'm a survivor and this is my story.

**~L*B~**

"Luce, Aunt Silvia said you had to get up or she's throwing your chocolate stash in the bin," said a voice near my head. I jumped up immediately, barging past my eleven year old brother, Trenton, and darting out through my open door and down the polished wooden staircase.

"No touching my chocolate stash!" I screeched, bounding into the kitchen eating area and almost knocking into the black chairs of the small table in the middle of the room.

Ok, so maybe it wasn't really a room. Our kitchen was really massive, with cold stone tiles in varying shades of butter brown. A long white kitchen island took up the middle of the actual cooking space, with three somewhat short chandeliers paced evenly above it. The kitchen was set in a square-like "U". The main stoves were on the side closest to the stairs, whereas the cupboards and minor stoves were on the side opposite and the fridge and chopping space in the part that connected the "U". All the table tops were made of white marble. A black table with six black chairs and white cushions was set in between the kitchen and long glass windows.

Two of the six chairs were already occupied by my two little sisters (who were two thirds of a triplet; Trenton made up the other part), Telissa and Terpsichore (only, no one ever calls her that unless they want to die. She prefers Pic). Lissa's godmother, Silvia Fenwick, was cooking bacon and eggs on the stove and her son and one of my best friends, Drew, was looting the fridge.

Silvia is probably the nicest woman on the world, and that's saying something, seeing as I know my Grandmum Isabelle. After my Mum died giving birth to the triplets, the recently widowed Silvia Fenwick was informed that, should anything happen to my parents and should anything happen to I and I Potter (Mum's very close friends and my godparents), we (meaning myself, Trenton, Telissa and Pic) were to go to her and Remus Lupin (my awesome Uncle Moony), which was Mum's last wish. With my father (and note I say father instead of Dad) incarcerated and both Aunt I and Uncle Prongs dead, it was up to her and Uncle Moony. Unfortunately, Uncle Moony has some very pressing … medical issues that prevent him from claiming guardianship of me and my siblings, so Aunt Silvia had to raise both us and Drew, her son. To add to her amazingness, she also held the title of Headmistress of Salem Witches Academy, where she had recently been promoted.

She had long blonde hair that'd been prematurely streaked with grey and a pretty, oval face that had heaps of smile wrinkles at the corner of her turquoise eyes and plump lips. Today she was wearing her jeans and a plain white shirt, along with a pair of black heels. Her face only wore lipstick and mascara.

"Lucy," she scolded in her now thick, American accent, "it's almost nine and the five of you have to catch the Express."

"Sorry, Aunt Silvia," I answered, springing into the kitchen to pilfer myself some cereal. "Won't happen again, I promise." I poured creamy milk into a bowl and shook some cereal flakes into the mix. Then I started to search through the cutlery draw for a small spoon. However, to my great horror, there were only … big spoons. "Drew…" I said gingerly, "… are you on dishwasher?"

Drew stared up at me from his position in the fridge. He looked rather comical: a piece of ham dangled from his mouth and his eyes bugged out wide in question, a Coke bottle held by its neck in his right hand. "Ebligem," he gurgled.

Everyone present in the room giggled madly, apart from Aunt Silvia, who gave her son a look of disgust, and me, who was raging inwardly at his stupidity. How _dare_ he forget to unload the small spoons?

"Mr Fenwick," I demanded in a voice oh-so-similar to a certain Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts (who was, funnily enough, one of the three teachers Drew was terrified of), "_why_ did you not unload the small spoons? Why? Why did you not, hmmm?"

Drew looked quite lost for words. He stared into my face with confusion, probably wondering why I was so obsessed with the small spoons. But he should know! He'd only lived with me for twelve freaking years!

Needless to say, I like little spoons. The reason, however, is a very logical one: when you use a small spoon, you get to enjoy a meal longer because small spoons can only hold so much, whereas if you use a big spoon, you eat it all quicker. See. Infallible logic.

"Um…" trailed off Drew, looking a little overwhelmed. "I, uh, forgot. Sorry, Luce." The look on his face was so priceless, I couldn't help but allow my own laughter to join my little sisters'.

"Drew," I chortled, "for the son of the Salem Witches Academy's Headmistress and a Ravenclaw Auror, you really are quite dumb, aren't you?"

He merely glared at me. Aunt Silvia, trying to prevent a smirk, set a bowl of cereal in front of Pic, who grinned.

Terpsichore "Pic" Black was the youngest and most reckless of my siblings, a definite Gryffindor (even though her Sorting was later on would be later on that night, I had no doubt in my mind that she would be in my House). She was always into causing trouble, causing chaos seemingly etched into every facet of her being. Her stormy-grey eyes always shimmered with mischief, making you feel as if she was going to do something funny at any time, whether it be trying to sneak cookies away but failing miserably or pulling your pants down. I supposed her hair style also reflected her person: it was black, the colour of charred wood, and was always bouncing and tangling all over the place. Her face had that innocent, heart-like shape to it, and her lips were full and pink. She was clothed in a bubblegum blue shirt, jeans and a pair of those old shoes, bright blue Converse I Purcells (honestly, I didn't know why she preferred to wear them. They were mostly around in my Mum's early years).

Sometimes it was hard to remember she was eleven, what with her easy-going attitude that could dissipate in a second if she got pissed off or mopey. She had inherited what Uncle Moony called "Susan's Wrath," which meant she was terrifying if she didn't get what she wanted.

Her triplet sister, Telissa, was a lot more quiet and studious. She was a lot like Uncle Moony, her godfather, in that respect. If it were a choice between sitting down and reading or playing a game of Quidditch, her initial preference would be reading. Her appearance, however, was a lot softer and more shocking than any of us. Her eyes, instead of Pic's stormy-grey, were a bright icy blue, quite alike the eyes of the Headmaster at Hogwarts. Unlike anyone in our little branch of the Black family, Lissa's hair was a rich mahogany and curled around her pale, heart-shaped face. As far as I knew, she got it from our Grandmum Isabelle, who was our Mum's mum.

I mused about this all through the process of taking a small spoon victoriously from the dishwasher. I threw myself into the chair on Pic's right and started munching on my cereal just as my thoughts turned down a dark road, thoughts of my father's mum.

Walburga Black was my paternal grandmother, and a worse, more evil grandmother there never was. I swear, that woman was so horrible that she made a portrait of herself and hung it on the wall of her house with a Permanent Sticking Charm so that she could insult the next owner.

When my siblings and I were little, that horrid woman had tried, and I mean really tried, to take us away from Aunt Silvia. Legally, she had that right, and it was all because of our last name. If our father or Mum were around, she wouldn't have _dared_ try. Unfortunately, they weren't, and so that bit– I mean, horrible woman (Aunt Silvia had gotten me to promise her I wouldn't use swear words, even in my mind) _did_ try. There was some random piece of writing in some random place in random Black history that said something random along the lines of: any pureblood child of Black, in absence of parents, is to go to their nearest Black relative. Luckily, the bit– I mean, horrible woman died before she could get custody.

"I, I don't know what you did to your brother, but he's not come down once since he went to wake you up," announced Aunt Silvia, heading towards the stairs. "I'll go get him, then once he's had breakfast we can go." Then she trumped up the stairs to fetch my brother.

Lissa collected the bowls while Pic crossed her feet on the table, hands behind her head. When Drew tottered over with a massive bucket filled to the brim with popcorn and brandishing his Coke bottle, Pic's hand flew up and she snatched the Fenwick boy's food and drink off him. Drew, mouth open, stared at her for a few seconds before muttering darkly and storming back into the kitchen for something else to eat. Lissa and I exchanged amused looks and Pic poked her tongue out at him, feet still firmly on the table.

"Thank you for the popcorn, Drew," sang Pic sweetly. He turned to her. A blue eye twitched. "It's so yummy," she added. The eye twitched again. "Buttery, salty and hot, just how I like it!"

Drew looked like he could punch her. "My – popcorn," he hissed in a strangled voice.

"He's lost it again," commented Pic with a low whistle. "Boy, I didn't think he'd snap so quickly. The way he goes on about himself, you'd think he was Supreme Ruler of All On This Earth, thus untouchable to the whims of others."

While Pic needn't have said it so bluntly … it's kind of true. Drew had probably the biggest head in this whole house – it was a constant joke between Aunt Silvia and me that if we were able to put Pic and Drew's egos together, even if the whole world banded their egos together no one would beat them. What added to the humour was the fact that it was true. I think Drew got the ego when he went to school, and, even at eleven, girls started to drool over him. While he was, I'll admit, rather nice looking, he wasn't a total knock-over. His hair was blond and short, like the pictures of Benjy, Silvia's husband, I'd seen around the house. Drew's eyes, though, were Silvia's, a dark blue the colour of violets that darkened to black when he was mad and shimmered a light azure when happy. His face was also like his mother's, a sort of rounded oval that was pale and freckle-less.

"Oi," he snapped. "Speak badly of me while I'm here, why don't cha?"

"Ok," shrugged Pic. She turned to Lissa and me with a high beam smile. "Let's all talk about Drew's numerous faults!"

"Yay!" I squealed, doing a fake imitation of Ursula Danville of Hufflepuff, school slut. "That, like, would be, like, totally, like, awesome, and shit."

Drew groaned, noting accurately what I was doing. "Don't remind me of Ursula,' he moaned. 'I couldn't get rid of her for ages."

Ursula had been Drew's girlfriend for about two weeks last school year. All I can say of that encounter is that she amazed me how possessive a slut could be. I mean, she made him a card every day, celebrating things like their twenty-four hour-aversary and shit like that. Possessive? I most definitely think so.

Of course, I'd found it so hilarious, I'd owled the triplets the second I found out about the cute couple. Even Telissa (who I was certain was going to be a Ravenclaw, the quiet cheeky bugger) had been hysterical with giggles over that.

About five food-throwing minutes (Drew threw milk at Pic for stealing his popcorn, and everything just escalated after that) after my imitation of Hufflepuff's resident whore, Aunt Silvia and my little brother and last third of the triplets, Trenton, marched into the kitchen.

One thing that comes to mind when you see Trenton is the thought that he is _huge_. The kid is taller than me, and I'm almost fifteen! He's _eleven_! Then again … I am a bit of a midget. But anyway ... Trenton is about 5'11, and is of a lanky build, mostly skin and bones, as Aunt Silvia likes to put it. His face is exactly the opposite of Telissa's – tanned, but with no freckles at all, whereas hers is pale but sprinkled with the little brown dots. As far as I can tell, no one on either sides of our family have leaf green eyes, except him, of course.

One look at Aunt Silvia's face told Pic and Drew that they were in deep sh– I mean, sugar. Yes, sugar. Then again, as Aunt Silvia soon turned around to see Lissa covered in egg, I knew I was in deep sugar too – my hands were, of course, coated with the slimy stuff from when I'd squeezed one too hard (that was when I'd changed my aim from Drew to Lissa).

"What," fumed Aunt Silvia, "have you four been _doing_?"

Trenton snorted, giving his triplet sisters looks that told them plainly, _Deep sugar, dear sisters of mine. Deep sugar._

For once in his existence, I agreed with him.

**~L*B~**

As I suppose you can all see, we, meaning Pic, Lissa, Trenton, Drew and I, aren't typical people. I mean, the living circumstances themselves would be considered odd. Technically, I own the house, according to Mum and _his_ Will, but as a "minor" I can't legally look after it. So, the honour falls to my godparents, who are, as you most probably know, dead. And so, that bloody honour then falls to the next eldest sibling's godparents. That just so happens to be Aunt Silvia and Uncle Moony.

Then, of course, there would be the fact that we act more like siblings than family friends. Personally, I can't remember a day where Aunt Silvia and Drew haven't been in it.

Actually … that's a lie.

Well … it was mentioned before that my Mum died in childbirth, right?

Yeah, that was a lie too.

You see, I Black _did_ die on the day her triplet children were born. Except, they weren't the reason she was dead. Well, not the whole reason, I suppose. Giving birth in her state and her condition probably didn't help things one bit.

I can't really recall much about the day she died, but I do remember the ones that followed: waking up in the hospital with burns and cuts, Uncle Moony and Aunt Silvia telling me, an almost three-year-old child, that my Mum had gone to "live with the angels", as they put it. Then there was the funeral, the last time I saw my – I mean, _him_.

I remember being really excited to see him there. I remember how Lydia, Uncle Moony's Mum, gripped baby Pic tighter, Aunt Silvia, my brother in her arms, leading both Lydia and Drew away. I remember Uncle Moony telling me to not mention my brother and sisters. I remember telling _him_ all about nice Dr Samuels and how she made my sores better with her wand.

Mostly, I remember running to him and screaming, "Daddy!"

It makes me feel strangely depressed and wanting to eat chocolate … at least more than usual.

**~L*B~**

Any older sibling in the whole entire world will tell you that being the eldest really does _suck _at times. Sure, we've got more privileges and the adults "trust" us more. But honestly, it can be a pain in the butt. Especially when you've got a whiny sister who doesn't want to push her trolley – for example, Terpsichore Black. I could feel her grinning at me from behind, that sparkly grin that either made me laugh or growl.

At the mo', it was growl.

But I wasn't alone in my troublesome duties: Silvia had Trenton's trolley and Drew was busy with both his and Lissa's. Luckily, I found some random spell in one of my Mum's old school books last year, one that shrinks things, so I had my trunk and old cage in my pocket and didn't have to push a trolley.

"Why can't I do that spell like Luce?" complained Drew as he almost crashed into a woman and her daughter boarding a train to Oxford. The woman gave him a dirty look. "Sorry, ma'am, lost control of the trolley." She huffed, jerking her daughter away before throwing him the bird over her shoulder. "Jeez, she's a lovely mother, eh? But you see, this is why I need to do a spell like Luce. So I don't bump into crazy bitches wi –"

"Andrew!" exclaimed Silvia. "Don't ever let me hear you using that language ever again! Do you understand me?"

"– th anger management issues," he continued, ignoring his mother's interruption.

"Hard work encourages building of your character," Silvia said absentmindedly.

"Then why doesn't Lucy do it?" he whined.

"Because she's got character enough for a lifetime," said Pic. She looked over Drew, mock-grimacing. "You, however … will do until you finish pushing Lissa's trolley for the rest of her school life."

I rolled my eyes. Ah, the perks of knowing Pic. Honestly, she's the scariest, most hyper eleven year old I know. I would say that she was the most adventurous and prone to accidents, but that title belonged to three kids at my school that were nicknamed the Golden Trio: Hermione Granger, magical genius; Ron Weasley, comedic dumbarses; and Harry Potter, the Boy Who Ruled … or something like that.

"Here we are, platform nine and three quarters," announced Silvia, smiling. "Drew you go through first so you can drop the trolleys off."

"'K," said Drew, stopping a few feet in front of the barrier. It seemed to be an unspoken order for us all to stop and crowd around him, looking around at the nearby Muggles to see if they were watching. But without further ado, Drew took off, running at the platform in earnest, this time only controlling one trolley.

"Right," said Silvia once Drew had disappeared. "Pic, you next. Then Trenton and Luce, then me and Lis will go."

"But isn't Uncle Moony gonna meet us here?" asked Lis, frowning slightly.

Silvia hesitated before answering with, "The Aurors have been questioning him a bit recently and they wanted to talk to him today… He would be here if he could, Lis, but he has to stay at home while … they're interrogating him."

"Oh," said Lissa, nodding, looking a tad crestfallen. "Right."

I could tell why Lissa was so upset: Uncle Moony was her closest Uncle, even though he wasn't related to us by blood. But I knew why she wouldn't complain either. After all, she too had been questioned about the same thing Uncle Moony was being questioned about – Sirius Black.

It astounded me that they hadn't talked to Uncle Moony yet. I mean, he's _his_ last best friend. If I were in charge, the person to go to after the prisoner escaped and they'd spoken to family would be friends. I would've thought they'd have already grilled him about the subject.

But why would Aunt Silvia _lie _about it? She wouldn't … unless she knew something she didn't want the rest of us to know…

"Go on, sweetie," Silvia encouraged Pic, shoving her gently in the back. Pic grinned, made a salute with her hand and bounced towards the barrier. Silvia looked at the barrier for a short time before turning back to us. "If she was going for a military salute … she did it with the wrong hand."

Trenton snorted. "That'd be Pic, alright."

"'K, you two go now," said Aunt Silvia, gesturing us for us to go through the obstacle. I nodded, Trenton copying me. I cocked my head at him, and he cocked his back.

And that's when I gave him my twitchy eye.

The one thing that neither my brother nor my sisters can copy is my twitchy eye. It's like … a personal _treasure_, and the one thing that Uncle Moony really _hates_ me doing. I don't know why.

[I do know it now, though, and I just told Charlie, who is, again, reading over my shoulder. Now he's poking me and saying, "Lucy. _Lucy_. Luuuuuuucy." Again, handsome git.]

Trenton grinned, then, without warning, took off, scaring the shit out of me. I actually said that aloud, and suddenly Silvia was boxing me around the ears for my 'atrocious language'. Not kidding, she actually said that.

When I followed my brother, the soot from the starting train was so thick that I couldn't see anything. It's not pleasant, not being able to see. Especially when you're commanding Lissa's luggage trolley.

I swear I bumped into someone. And I was right! I did bump into someone, just not someone who was a particularly good person to bump into. It was my pompous arse of a second cousin and his fucked up parents.

Draco Malfoy.

Ok, so we've met on a few occasions. Anyone who doesn't know I'm related to Sirius Black soon does, or at least suspects it, within a few days of me and Draco in the same room. Sometimes, if people are smart, they'll realise in a few minutes – seconds sometimes.

"Watch where you're going, blood traitor spawn," hissed Draco.

I smirked and cooed, "Come now, Draco, that's not anyway to speak to family."

His father gave me a dirty look (his mother did the same, but since it was only a bit more sour than the look that usually graced her face, it wasn't much of a dirty look) and sneered in that truly stunning way only Malfoys seem to know. It's like a taught skill that runs through their blood or something. I'm being serious!

[Real funny, Charlie, ha, ha, shut up!]

"I would prefer it if you didn't talk to my son, girl," he said. His words were spoken with a barely concealed edge to it, like I'd imagined a snake's would be. "After all, we don't want any _accidents_, do we?"

My eyes narrowed.

"Just so you know, Malfoy, I'm keeping an eye on you. If even the slightest hint reaches me that you're planning something …" I let the sentence trail off. "I have my ways, Malfoy, and you piss me off, I fully intend on using them… Good day to you."

Yeah. Probably shouldn't have told him that, even though it's true.

I turned my trolley away and back into the crowd. It wasn't long before I found Silvia, who was standing with the triplets and completely attacking Pic with a massive hug.

"Promise you'll write," I heard as I came into earshot. "Every day, and don't forget to."

We all rolled our eyes. Again, Silvia boxed one of us around the ears. Care to guess who? Nah, you probably already know.

"Where's Drew?" I asked, looking for him.

Silvia and the others told me that while I was absent, he'd previously said goodbye to his Mum and boarded the train. Soon enough, it was our turn to board it too. As Silvia hugged Trenton closely, one last time, we Black sisters huddled together. Silvia smiled at us, bade us goodbye and helped us onto the train.

Before long, we were speeding away, leaving our surrogate mother behind.

All by herself.


End file.
